


How to be a good office kitten

by TheWeirdDane



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Feminization, M/M, Model AU, Panty Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rhys as Jack's PA, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Verbal Humiliation, i suppose????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The anniversary for Handsome Jack becoming the CEO of Hyperion is, of course, a big deal to him. Rhys knows this and wants to show Jack that he appreciates it just as much as Jack himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to be a good office kitten

**Author's Note:**

> I have never finished a game, gotten into the characters and into a certain ship as fast as I did with TFTBL, Jack and Rhys, and Rhack. What better way to celebrate than diving straight into the sin pile? First Rhack fic, and technically also first Borderlands fic, pls be gentle

“Now, Rhysie-cakes, pray tell me why you’re dressed like that?”

Jack’s voice was casual, but his lips parted in a wide, wolfish grin as his eyes rested on the man before him, who let out a huff of air and was rewarded with a mocking laugh and a brown leather boot to his shoulder, getting him to lean back on his heels.

Rhys’ face was almost as red as the blood smeared across Jack’s face, his mask adorned with bright stripes that gave his already manic face a few notches up the ladder of insanity.

But it was the very same insanity that got Rhys to moan over and over again when Jack _really_ got started. When Jack _really_ got in the mood, all Rhys could do was hang on and hope that his life wouldn’t shoot out of his dick along with cum.

“I said,” Jack began and followed up with a sharp smack to Rhy’s already burning cheek, “why are you dressed like the world’s sluttiest slut? I mean, you obviously are, but,” and then he leaned comfortably back in his ridiculous chair, hands behind his head and smug smile back in place, “what’s the occasion, princess?”

Rhys mumbled something unintelligible that earned him a stinging slap on his other cheek, causing him to whimper, but the way his cock strained against the lace told its own very clear story.

“Wanna try that again, pumpkin?” The tone was sugar sweet and deadly, Jack's face mimicking a confused expression. But oh, Rhys knew only too well that Jack never asked twice unless there would be hell to pay.

“It’s for the anniversary of you becoming the most efficient and result-creating CEO Hyperion has ever seen, and ever will see, sir,” Rhys repeated and looked up at Jack through his long, fake lashes. He batted his eyes, knowing that the stars’ light through the massive panorama window of Jack’s office caught them perfectly, and couldn't help a rush of excitement, of pride, when Jack visibly let out a shaky puff of air.

 _He_  was doing this to Jack. Handsome goddamn Jack, near breathless because of _him_.

Since becoming the President’s PA, Rhys had come to understand, and god forbid he should ever admit it, actually _love_ , the rush of power. He had gone from being just another code-monkey, a nobody who worked in data-mining, to pretty much shooting straight to the top when Handsome Jack had taken special interest in him.

And from then on, the game rules had changed. Forever.

He was now untouchable. Well, save for the occasional assassination attempts, of course, but generally, it was extremely lucrative to be the right-hand man of the President of Hyperion.

Rhys didn’t want to admit it, but he loved the power he suddenly had. He would never go to the lengths Jack did - to Rhys, the end didn’t necessarily justify the means - but his sudden boost of influence meant that he could arrange better deals, he could make decisions that weren’t important enough for the President himself but still too important for anyone else to make.

That wasn’t to say, however, that he had much of a say in the bedroom.

“Thaaat’s right, sweetcheeks, how sweet of you to remember,” Jack crooned and grinned widely, an expression that most people found terrifying but that Rhys had come to love and associate with praise. The special kind of praise that only Rhys got.

“And you even dolled up all nice for me, aw, princess, I’m touched.” Jack even went as far as putting his hand on his chest before bursting into laughter. Rhys merely rolled his eyes.

It was true, though; Rhys had gathered all of his courage - and more, in the form of alcohol - to ask Fiona if she could do him a special favor that they never needed to talk about ever again.

Already there, she had had a hunch that he was about to ask a) something really bizarre or b) something that had to do with Handsome Jack or c) quite possibly something that combined the two.

After explaining the circumstances, Fiona had looked at him like he had asked permission to fuck every single Skag he encountered. But nonetheless, she had helped him, although it had been a very awkward time getting his make-up done.

When he had moved towards his closet, however, Fiona defiantly announced she was _very_ busy, and no amount of pleading seemed to change her mind (Rhys knew that she wasn’t “busy”), so he was left alone to change into his current attire.

“Only the best for you, _honey_ ,” Rhys snorted and slowly rose to his feet, careful not to lose his balance.

Under Jack’s appreciative and hungry gaze, Rhys felt heat rush to his face, but he managed to ignore most of the nerves and instead walked around Jack in careful, measured steps. As amusing as it would be (for Jack), falling on his face was not on his ‘wishes for tonight’ list.

Lots of other things were, though.

But he worked his strut and slowly moved to sit on Jack’s desk, hoisting one long, slender leg over the other and smiling innocently when he saw the CEO’s eyes follow the lines of the stocking and up to his thighs where thin straps connected to a garter belt.

“Like what you see, sir?” Rhys asked, unable to hide a smug grin, and spread his legs again, wider this time to carefully place a heel on Jack’s chair.

A daring move that paid off in the form of Jack’s eyes traveling from the black/golden heels snugly strapped to Rhys’ ankles, up the vaguely transparent stockings clinging to the vulgarly long legs and resting a good long while when meeting a set of lace panties right below a matching garter belt.

“I picked them out especially for you,” Rhys said in a sultry voice, madly in love with the way Jack’s eyes raked over his body, the raw lust and desire making vibrant heterochromatic blue and green eyes glisten. It made his next words come out as little more than a shaky exhale.

“Know how you love the combination of black and gold.”

“Oh, princess, you couldn’t begin to understand how much,” Jack murmured and got up from his chair to place broad and strong hands on either side of his PA and lean way into his personal space. Rhys didn’t as much as bat an eye.

Or, well, maybe he _did_ bat an eye. Repeatedly.

A hand moved to his thigh, forcing him to part his legs wider, and Jack let out an approving hum.

“Seems like I’m not the only one loving this, hmm, kitten?”

He was far, far from wrong, as he often was. Annoyingly often, actually.

Rhys’ cock strained against the black lace panties, rich with golden swirls highlighting his hipbones, and there was a wet spot where pre-cum had leaked.

He unwillingly moaned at the tone, and Jack’s lips parted in a wolfish grin. His hand slid from Rhys’ pale inner thigh and towards his cock, and for every inch Rhys’ moan got louder.

When Jack’s hand finally, _finally_ , rubbed at his cock, Rhys leaned his head back and outright whimpered. It was a pathetic, embarrassing sound that Jack would no doubt hold against him till he died, but he didn’t have the presence to care.

All he knew was that he wanted Jack. Just _Jack_. All of him, his hands, his mouth, his scent engulfing him and wrapping around him like a heavy cloak. Wanted his words of equal parts praise and equal parts humiliation.

“Oh, God,” he moaned and mindlessly bucked up into Jack’s hand, breath hitching in his throat when the older man suddenly laughed against his neck, teeth barely grazing the sensitive skin.

“I know you have a weird hero-worship-thing going on, kiddo, but Jack is fine.”

Rhys’ blush deepened and spread from his cheeks to his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to kick Jack, but his legs were absolutely unresponsive and simply hung uselessly over the edge of the desk.

“Shut u-- _haahhh_ , _fuck,_ ” Rhys breathed out, his words stretching to a throaty moan as Jack tugged the panties to the side and took Rhys’ cock in a firm grip before immediately stroking him at an agonizingly slow pace.

Each stroke ripped delicious whimpers and gasps from Rhys’ crimson red lips, and it didn’t take long before his breath came out ragged and sharp and Jack took this as his queue to stop.

As was to be expected, Rhys wasn’t pleased about that, and he whimpered loudly, bucking his hips in search of friction.

“Save your pretty whimpers for when I fuck you, cupcake,” Jack murmured, his breath rolling over Rhys’ heated skin and causing the lanky man to shudder and his back arch beautifully off the table.

"Then fucking get on with it," Rhys sneered.

Jack seemed to take that to heart, because few seconds later, Rhys had been pushed on his back, his panties and garter belt had been discarded on the floor (Rhys had no idea where Jack had learned how to work those things and made a mental note to interrogate him later) and his legs were pushed towards his chest.

A rather obscene moan left his lips, and he knocked his head back against the desk as Jack's hands traveled to his ass, spreading the cheeks and making a pleased sound.

"You even shaved for me, Rhysie, what a good girl you are."

"O-Of course, sir," Rhys all but whimpered, his mind reeling from all the ideas it was fabricating, "anything for you."

"That's what I like to hear," Jack murmured before leaning close enough to lick Rhys' hole. The younger man let out a keen sound and instinctively wrapped his arms around his knees to keep his legs up and give Jack as much access as possible.

This was rewarded with a snicker and Jack's deliciously wicked tongue circling his entrance for a few moments before going over it repeatedly, making sure to make it as sloppy as possible. Above him, Rhys was moaning like a whore and arching his back like a world-champion gymnast. It was enchanting and despite his position, Jack's eyes were fixed on every face his PA pulled.

Before long, the wet muscle pressed inside Rhys' ass, and he moaned loudly, pressing his head back against the table.

"Fuck, Jack," he practically whimpered as Jack's tongue moved harder and faster, steadily working him open. He wanted so badly to touch himself, needed some sort of friction, but that would mean letting go of his knees, and then Jack's tongue wouldn't get as deep, and he didn't want that.

Deeming his work sufficiently done, Jack pulled back with a grin that made way for laughter when Rhys whined at the loss.

"Yeah yeah, I hear ya, kitten, calm down, I'm gonna take so good care of you," he promised, and his voice was quiet, intoxicating, and Rhys never wanted him to stop talking.

Jack leaned up over him, crowding him against the desk and leering down at him. His eyes gleamed and it left Rhys trembling and his cock twitching, aching with need. He let go of his legs and they unceremoniously banged against the desk as his arm wrapped around Jack's shoulders to pull him into a searing kiss, smearing the still fresh blood everywhere.

As their lips worked together, time seemed to stand still. There was nothing but them, Jack's hand at his ass to probe at his hole, his mocking laugh rolling back and forth between their mouths when Rhys gasped and then moaned as Jack's finger pushed inside him.

Rhys noticed nothing else but the vaguely burning sensation and Jack's lips that were suddenly at his neck, nibbling at the tattoo and causing almost painful jolts of pleasure to surge through him. He found himself clutching at Jack's shirt with his flesh hand while the robot one went to grab at the edge of the desk. Neither of the men registered the creaking sound of the metal crushing the wood.

Jack's finger moved steadily in and out, pulling sharp gasps and breathy moans from Rhys whose legs had managed to wrap around Jack's waist, forcing him closer out of want, of pure _need_. He _needed_ Jack to get serious, to fucking _get on with it_ , and he needed to come, and--

"Jesus, princess, would you relax," Jack groaned as he slipped in another finger and Rhys' muscles clamped down on them like an oyster, causing both men to moan obscenely and Jack to increase the speed and force until he finally coaxed his little princess relaxed and pliant.

"Yeah, just like that, sweetcheeks, that's what I like." His praise seemed to penetrate Rhys' skin, to his bones and entering his veins, making him sigh and moan and arch his back, one hand slowly crushing the desk and the other moving to tug on Jack's hair. The words rolled over him like warm water, causing his toes to curl and his legs to pull Jack closer.

"J-Jack, please," Rhys panted, his cock twitching and leaking onto his abdomen, the coil so painfully tight that he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and cry out, begging for Jack to touch him, to fuck him, to do _something_ , _anything_!

Jack's voice was tight when he answered "In a sec, kitten," and retreated, pulling out his fingers and causing Rhys to whimper, until there was suddenly something warm and slick pressing against his hole, and the breath hitched in his throat, causing him to almost choke on the next inhale, and when Jack once more leaned over him, he dragged him down into a burning, sloppy kiss that was both everything he had ever wanted and not nearly enough.

And then finally, _finally_ , Jack collected his balls and pushed forward, and there was a stinging, burning pain causing him to cry out against Jack's lips, and Jack swallowed it without protest, simply creating a groan of his own that Rhys in turn eagerly swallowed.

Jack pushed forward until his hips rested against his PA's perfect little ass and then grabbed his thighs, both to steady himself and to keep Rhys in place so he could fuck him properly.

And that he did. Jack wasted no time in setting a hard, fast pace, grunting and groaning with each moan. His fingers dug into the pale flesh of Rhys' inner thighs with a force that would no doubt leave bruises, but the lanky man didn't mind; he reveled in that, actually. He treasured the marks that Jack scattered all over his body, from the love bites on his neck to the deep cuts across his back and the bruises that sometimes took weeks to disappear.

Rhys lost himself in the sensation, of how he opened for Jack, the way Jack's strong, calloused fingers left imprints in his skin, the way Jack towered over him, made him feel so small and vulnerable, and he knew that Jack could kill him any moment.

It really shouldn't be that hot. Really, _really_ shouldn't, because shit, it was so wrong, but if Rhys had to worry about right and wrong, he wouldn't do anything else, and he had very quickly learnt that on Helios, when you worked for Hyperion, you simply had to let go of some of your morals to keep your job, as well as your sanity.

"You have such a tight, perfect ass, kitten," Jack groaned and pounded into Rhys mercilessly, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating in the enormous office, and Rhys' cock bounced between them with each relentless thrust. His blush deepened and crept all the way down neck his neck, and he moved his flesh hand to stroke his aching cock, all but crying out when he almost came right then and there.

"That desperate, heh, Rhysie?" Jack tried to appear smug, but his hair was disheveled, and a flush was starting to spread around the edges of his mask. His breath came out sharp and ragged, and sweat beaded on his forehead, his fingers losing their grip on Rhys' perfect thighs, and he instead leaned over the smaller man, hands braced on either side of his head and gripped the edges of the desk.

The new position made it possible to drive harder and deeper into Rhys, causing him to shudder and push against Jack, long legs tightly locked around a narrow waist and crimson lips blindly mouthing at a tan neck.

"You're ruining your lipstick." It was said as casually as if he was talking about the weather, but his breathy voice and barely suppressed grunts told another story.

"Mmhh," Rhys moaned and latched onto the skin as if nervous it might just disappear if he didn't hold on to it, "marking my-- _ahh fuck_ , t-territory-- f-fuck, _Jack_ -" His boss' name was stretched into a filthy, throaty moan, and he threw his head when Jack hit _just_ the right spot and Rhys twisted his flesh wrist _just so_ , and all the tension in his body came undone between them, long strings of pearly cum being smothered against Rhys' heated skin and Jack's without a doubt very expensive shirt, but neither of them cared in the moment.

Rhys' back was arched exquisitely, his human hand furiously pumping his cock, and with that sight as well as the convulsing muscles, Jack couldn't hold back much longer, either. He came with a muffled snarl against Rhys' shoulder, teeth deep in the flesh and hips grinding insistently against his PA's delicious ass as he emptied himself deep within him. The man in question whimpered deliriously before finally slumping back against the surface of the table, absolutely and one hundred percent entirely spent. It didn't take long before Jack let himself fall down as well, bracing himself with one elbow beside Rhys' head so as to not crush the man entirely. His disheveled hair fell into his face and barely tickled Rhys' as he breathed heavily.

For a little while, they just laid there, catching their breaths and listening to each others' heartbeats. Without really paying attention, Rhys had let go of the desk to wrap both of his arms around Jack's shoulders, holding him close and absent-mindedly stroking his back. It was soothing in a way he would never admit aloud, least of all to Jack because god forbid he got _sentimental_ and _emotional_ , but, it was the truth. It wasn't like he had _asked_ to feel this way or anything, so really, he couldn't be blamed. But it was a universally known fact that Jack didn't care about stupid things like 'logic' or 'reason', so why even bother?

"You awake, robo-boy?" Jack's voice was quiet against Rhys' shoulder, and if he didn't know better, Rhys would have thought he was half-way nodding off.

"Mh-mh," he answered and buried his face further in Jack's neck. It smelled so nice; warm and heavy (how could you even _smell_ warm and heavy?) with a faint undertone of gunpowder and a whiff of his favorite whiskey. But more than anything, and Rhys knew this was absolutely insane and in every way too sentimental, even for him, Jack smelled like home. Home and safety and comfort. Who, in their right mind, could seriously associate Jack with safety?

(Rhys could.)

"You owe me a new shirt."

Rhys groaned loudly against Jack's neck before pulling back. He ran a hand through his hair, which didn't really help anything, and looked up at Jack, noting with a certain amount of pride and satisfaction how _out of it_ the man looked. A faint blush around the edges of his mask, the usually so neat hair now falling into his face, faint lines of sweat down his cheeks and forehead. Said lines had caused the streaks of blood to slide further down his face.

He was _gorgeous_ , and Rhys had to really administer some self-control to stop him from doing his pathetic fanboy-look.

"Can't I just, I don't know, suck you off or something?"

"Kitten, I know you're always a slut for me, and I don't blame you, my dick is awesome, but this shirt is worth more than your monthly salary, and you were the one getting cum all over it."

"It can be washed out," Rhys argued and desperately tried to ignore the embarrassment heating up his face.

"Yeah? That's why you threw out a perfectly good pair of socks last week?"

No way he could hide his blush now. He moaned in mortification and dragged his hands down his face, squeezing his eyes shut and praying that somehow, Jack had been teleported somewhere else when he opened them again.

He had not.

"It's rude to look through someone else's clothes!"

Jack shrugged.

"Babe, I kill off more people than you'd like to know on a daily basis, and you think I'd have qualms about shifting through your, quite boring, by the way, underwear?"

Rhys knocked his head back against the desk with a groan.

"I'll suck you off during meetings for a week."

"Two weeks, and you got yourself a deal."

Rhys cursed under his breath and bit his lower lip, causing Jack to cackle loudly before pulling out with a wet, filthy sound. Rhys couldn't help a shiver as the cum started sliding out and down his thighs.

"One week, but," he added when Jack made to interrupt, leaning up to press his lips ever so lightly to Jack's, "dressed like this."

That seemed to interest Jack; he looked over his PA with a thoughtful hum.

"Complete with lipstick and heels?"

"Complete with lipstick and heels," Rhys agreed in a low, sultry voice and flashed a smug smile; he knew he had won this one. "Would you care for a demonstration, sir?" He reveled in the fact that Jack had to take a deep breath to steady himself before answering.

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry if I got something wrong ;u; Hoped you enjoyed anyway!


End file.
